


Happy Evil Love Story

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dark Humor, Explicit Language, M/M, Moran is obsessed with tigers, Sexual implications, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-13
Updated: 2012-12-13
Packaged: 2017-11-21 01:27:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/591884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim finally gets around to getting a "live-in one." Seb is a bit conflicted; maybe he can blame it on being woken up so early.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Evil Love Story

**Author's Note:**

> This song really prompted this fic: www.youtube.com/watch?v=7FGQ5i93DnU. This proves my theory that there is a Phineas and Ferb song for everything.

"Hey. Seb. Wake up, Sebby."

Rub at my eyes, blink them open. Holy shit, why is there a cyclops staring at me? No wait. Not a cyclops. Two eyes close to my face, blurring them together. Brown, maliciously happy eyes.

"Jim. Get the hell off."

He pouts. It's alarming, but an expression I am seeing increasingly. How he'd even get in here? This is my flat! Oh, damn, there's really no point is there? He can worm his way anywhere. Figured that out the third day on the job when he showed up in my old bathroom while I was in the shower. In hindsight, now that we're doing bad things together in the night, he was probably trying to get an eyeful. Huh.

"You wound me, Seb."

I snort and his pout could probably bend anyone. Not me. Doesn't effect me. God, how the hell's he so cute? Is he cute? Cute? I use the word cute now? Fucking a man's turned me into a damn pansy! I'm a ex-army sniper, not a thirteen year old girl.

His hair looks really nice, greased like that. I want to dig my hands into it - I'm doing it again.

"Why the hell are you here, Jim? I could have shot you." I pull my pistol out from under my pillow and toss it aside. "You're asking for it, you bloody bastard." Surprising he made his way in here without blowing something up. I probably need to work on my explosives safety...

He just giggles and it's not endearing at all. Nope. "My Sebby: swears more before six o'clock than most people swear all day."

"That's right, you goddamn fucking bastard." Oh wait; several things wrong with his statement. "I'm not your Sebby." I glance at the clock next to my bed. "The hell, Jim! Five forty-five! What the fucking fuck!"

He ignores me; typical. "You're moving in with me."

"Oh, I am, am I?" Him and his presumptions.

He nods solemnly. "I need a live-in one."

"What, a body guard? Sniper?" All roles I fufill, but part of me hopes he says, Boyfriend. If that part of me were to take on a physical form it would probably be an adorable baby tiger and the rest of me would kill it. I regularly have to beat it into submission.

"Nope, an ordinary person." He runs a hand through my hair and I think, Oh god, a cuddling mood. Last time he wanted a cuddle I didn't get to move all day. Then, Wait a fucking second.

"Oh, I'm ordinary now?" I pin him down. I'm just a smidge stronger than him, the pasty git. He just grins. "I wasn't ordinary two nights ago when you were screaming my name. How ordinary was I when I had a gun pointed at your head?" Ah, good memories. First time I met him, he'd sent someone to kill me because a client had wanted me dead. Ended up hiring me when he saw I was capable. The look on his face, facing the barrel of my gun -

My reminiscence is interrupted by him pressing a kiss to my cheek. It's not enjoyable. I don't shiver - oh god I just did a full-body shiver. "You surprised me. Still do. That's why you're not dead right now." That is the most arousing thing anyone has ever said to me. "You're mine now." Okay, scratch what I just thought, that is the most arousing thing I've ever heard. "You're still ordinary though." Damn the man, ruining it! I was getting in the mood.

I growl and turn away to get dressed. "No way in hell am I moving in with you. God, I don't even know where you live."

He drapes himself over my back and starts whining. Prick. "That's the mystery, Tiger."

I roll my eyes. "Not all of us need fucking intricate schemes to keep us busy." I pull out my rifle and press a kiss to it. Lovely thing. Named it Tigress. She's a beauty.

He pouts again. "Keep doing that and I might get jealous."

I resist the urge to stick my tongue out. "Maybe that's the point."

I'm about to stand up, but he grabs my hand and pulls me back onto the bed. "Come on," he says. He's almost begging. It's quite gratifying. "You know you want to. Think of all the fun we'll have! You love shooting people!"

"I do that already." One of the many job requirements, or benefits as I would say. Along with terrorizing John Watson, listening to the Bees Gees, and recently, making gingerbread men. Oh god, the fact that I enjoy that is going no further than my head.

"We can be together every night I'm home." That sounds appealing. "Send death threats. Laugh at our little consulting detective." His voice is steadily lowering. "I have torture porn."

I groan. "Of course you do." I turn to look at him. "You just want me to do your laundry for you. You and your fucking Westwoods." I get out of his hold and stand. "Believe it or not, you can't make me do anything."

His eyes blaze and he stands as well. It's amazing how intimidating he can be. "Oh, my pour, deluded Seb. I can make you do whatever I want."

And later, as I'm packing my stuff, I'm inclined to agree with him.


End file.
